An Ideal Arrangement
by Soap and Glory
Summary: When Sir Richard Carlisle and his trusty valet arrive at Downton Abbey they have plans for more than one inhabitant; but the charm that worked before might not be as effective when it comes to Cora Crawley and Sarah O'Brien. Alternative introduction alert!
1. Carlisle and Lang

A/N: Back before they actually turned up on the show Bexy and I were rather taken with the notion that Lang would be Carlisle's valet and together they would be an insatiable, sexy duo. Sadly we were wrong. But we decided to write it after all! I should point out that therewas never _any_ chance Carlisle was going to be with Mary in our world.

* * *

Lang shifted uncomfortably as he straightened his master's tie. He'd been all for their little plan when they'd first come to Downton - they'd done it before after all and it had always proved mutually satisfactory - but...well, then he'd seen the girl and he wasn't so keen anymore, but, well, it was something of a difficult topic to approach. How did anyone tell their master they weren't really up for seducing some boring, blonde housemaid who was sickeningly in love with a valet just so he could get into Lady Mary Crawley's knickers before abandoning her and ending their engagement and that he had another, altogether more promising plan?

He cleared his throat nervously. "Sir, I wondered if I might have a word with you about something."

Richard Carlisle straightened his suit jacket in the mirror, determined that no matter what the Crawley family thought he was going to look the part of a gentleman. He looked up to meet his valet and partner in crime's gaze in the mirror, smiling with confidence and superiority. He didn't feel superior to Lang of course, he was _exactly_ the sort of valet he'd always wanted, but he doubted he was going to find anyone worth bothering with in this house.

"Certainly you can Lang, just make it quick. I have a dinner engagement after all."

"About this, about…"

Lang cleared his throat and shifted slightly on the spot. No matter how many times they did it, how many times they were _successful_ and they had succeeded an alarming number of times, he still felt distinctly awkward discussing. Besides everything else, and how wrong it really was, Sir Richard was his employer and he couldn't imagine Mr. Bates having discussions like this with Lord Grantham!

"About our _plan._" He paused again, blushing and avoiding Carlisle's eyes. There was no easy way to say it so he would simply have to blurt it out. "I don't think we're going to be successful."

"Why on earth would you think that? We've never failed before have we?"

He mentally catalogued all the successful and most pleasurable visits they had made before, including the notable and rather scarring occasion then had visited the home of Lady Flintshire and been rather taken off guard by the aggression of her and her maid combined. Some things really did bind men together more than war ever could.

"Unless there's something about Lady Mary that you know and I don't? Has the girl, the maid, Anna isn't it, said something?"

"No, nothing like that," Lang answered quickly, gulping at the concern on Carlisle's face: he never liked it when his plans were foiled, but this one wasn't worth the trouble - Lady _Mary_ wasn't worth the trouble - and not only that but didn't he deserve to have some say in who he was supposed to seduce? Not that he considered himself Carlisle's equal of course, whatever their arrangement he was still a servant, but his master had always taken his feelings into consideration before, like the time they'd tackled Lady Flintshire and her maid and Carlisle had told him if he was still terrified of Vera Flynn when the moment came, they could call the whole thing off.

"With all due respect, Sir...the maid is so devoted to Lord Grantham's valet I don't think it's worth the bother and as for Lady Mary," he swallowed lightly, "I think she's a little full of herself, sir."

Lang was undoubtedly right on the last score if no other. The little he had seen of Lady Mary Crawley had confirmed Lady Flintshire's insistence that she was a stuck-up and rather difficult to get a straight answer out of and despite his attempts to enter into the upper classes and speak their language he was a businessman at heart and he preferred straight-talk. Lang and Vera Flynn were his kind of people, but for the fact that he had money and they did not but he was a generous man and more than happy to spend his cash to enjoy his life. He had certainly spent enough to get into this house and he was damned if he was going to leave without something to show for it.

"So what would you suggest? I don't know about you but I don't fancy either of our chances with dear old Dowager."

Lang didn't rate their chances on that score either, even if he wanted to bed the Dowager Countess which he would really rather not. Apart from the fact she was ancient, she didn't seem to like either him very much, never mind his employer. She looked at both of them like they were dangerous and perhaps she was right: they did have rather suspect intentions after all. But he'd had a completely different woman in mind and he fiddled uncomfortably with his sleeve, clearing his throat - again.

"Not the Dowager...the Countess." He braved a glance in Carlisle's direction. "Lady Grantham."

Carlisle raised his eyebrows as he considered the possibility and had to admit that it was_ far_ from being unpleasant. In society he would have made every effort to keep his face inscrutable but he made no such effort around Lang and the hunger for the new prey was evident in his eyes rather quickly.

Yes…the Countess would be a great deal more satisfying than Lady Mary. She was considerably more pleasant for one thing, just as beautiful and other than a rumour about a Turk there was no guarantee that Lady Mary would even be obliging. Lord Grantham didn't look like he was up to too much though and the couple didn't look too devoted. He turned to Lang with interest.

"And how would that alter your prospects? I can't say I've seen Lady Grantham's maid."

Lang blushed slightly. Sir Richard might not have seen Lady Grantham's maid but he certainly had and he was considerably more interested in her than Lady Mary's maid, and a great deal more interested in Miss O'Brien than most of the other women that had come his way. She was smart and sharp and undeniably attractive and he had been rather hoping that his boss would change his mind and go for the mother instead, and it was hardly asking a lot. Lady Grantham was a great deal more attractive than her daughter and a hundred times more engaging, and the pair of them - O'Brien and her mistress - were an altogether more tantalising prospect.

"I have to admit, I'd rather_ her_ than Lady Mary's maid."

Carlisle considered this for a moment and kept his eyes on Lang's usually immobile face; his valet was a reserved man, which was rather useful for their purposes as it meant no one ever suspected him, and by extension Sir Richard, of anything too untoward, but he seemed to be fond of this lady's maid already.  
Eventually he smiled with some fond amusement at the other man and reached out to clap his back with familiarity.

"In which case we'll change the plan. After you took on that housekeeper at Mrs Astor's for my sake I think I owe you one…and I must admit," he turned back to the mirror once more to straighten his tie and check he looked perfect. For a Countess, nothing else would do. "It's far from a sacrifice."

Lang very nearly sighed in relief.

The thought of having to attempt to seduce such a boring woman who was so blatantly in love with another man who was just as boring as her was enough to make him miserable and Sarah O'Brien was an infinitely better prospect. Maybe afterwards he could even take her out for a drink...or dinner! Sir Richard wouldn't be especially pleased if he called off their arrangement, but maybe he would understand, if it was for the right woman. The Countess was indeed no great sacrifice and he began to feel a great deal more anticipation about the whole thing, the sort of anticipation he didn't usually feel for any of the others. Especially not Mrs Astor's housekeeper.

"I think that it's for the best, although...we do have to alter everything now. I don't think Miss O'Brien is going to be quite as easy as Lady Flintshire suggested Miss Smith might be, and as for her ladyship...well, she's a Countess, isn't she? She'll have certain standards."

Carlisle wasn't too sure whether there was a soul inside the whole of Downton Abbey that truly did possess the mythical standards that the upper classes were supposed to. Lady Flintshire was a Marchioness, and the cousin of an Earl, and she'd been quick enough to throw off her negligee and jump into bed with him and he didn't think any the less of her for it! It was a capital quality in a woman and one that he hoped her cousin's wife emulated. On the other hand he had entered this house as someone's else's suitor which might cause trouble down the line.

"The rewards will be more satisfying if the chase is more stimulating my good man." He reached into his pocket for his cigarette case, holding it out to Lang with a small smile. "Take the case, tell her I never notice you taking it. Or is she not the sort that's easily impressed?"

Lang smiled slightly. Miss O'Brien took her job very seriously indeed - that much he knew already - and he doubted she would be impressed by theft! Even if she was that way inclined, a cigarette case was hardly impressive and he shook his head to decline the offer, but smiled in an attempt to communicate his gratitude. It was an odd arrangement of sorts, the relationship between himself and Carlisle, but he'd grown rather fond of his employer, and it would be a lie to say the arrangement didn't suit him immensely.

He supposed it wasn't the most moral of plans, but there was nothing wrong with it really. There was no force involved, no_ real_ deception, and the only people they were potentially hurting were the husbands and most of them didn't deserve the women they had somehow managed to marry: Lord Grantham certainly didn't appreciate his wife nearly enough for him to worry about the Earl's feelings.

"She's not. But thank you." He eyed the cigarette case with a flicker of amusement. "You should save it for Lady Grantham. It's a pretty thing - _she_ might be impressed by it."

Ah, so Lady Grantham liked shiny things did she? That would certainly explain the apparent friendship with her sister-in-law that Sir Richard hadn't fully understood; he'd met Lady Rosamund in London of course, but didn't know her quite as well as he would have liked to – encouragingly for his future plans the rumours would have it that he was the only man in London that wasn't on intimate terms with Lady Rosamund – but she'd seemed far too ostentatious a friend for the demure Countess.

"In which case Lang, could you pick the gaudiest lapel pin and cufflinks from the bag please? If she likes pretty things we'll give them to her."

He smoothed his hair again and lit his cigarette, enjoying the rush of smoke into his lungs as he inhaled deeply.

"And what of yours? If she's not impressed by gold," he shook the case and slipped it back into his inside pocket. "Then what will she like? You'll let me know if I can be of any help won't you? There has been a shift in our tasks. Young maid and older ladies are less taxing than young ladies and middle-aged maids! I don't envy you."

"No, not gaudy," Lang corrected immediately.

He never liked to correct his employer, but they wouldn't get anywhere at all with Lady Grantham or Miss O'Brien if they got it wrong, and in less than five minutes he had already determined that 'gaudy' was completely the wrong way to go. Lady Grantham liked shiny things, yes, but she was a woman of taste, and the cigarette case was elegant enough for the Countess to be intrigued and ask her guest more questions, but gaudy pins and cufflinks would only convince Lady Grantham that Sir Richard wasn't worth the title that had been bestowed upon him.

"Lady Grantham is nothing like Lady Rothes," he pressed on, blushing slightly uncomfortably and busying himself smoothing a crease from Carlisle's jacket. "She wears demure colours, minimal make-up - she likes _elegance_, not opulence."

Miss O'Brien would be harder though. So far he knew nothing about her besides her commitment to her job and doing things properly.

Carlisle nodded at the advice and allowed his valet to pick something more appropriate from the collection than the ones he had decided upon. He was not above taking advice from Lang, he himself had only been socialising within a better society since his elevation and, despite his best efforts, he couldn't know everything. But Lang had been in service for years and had been gifted ample opportunity to observe and to learn how to read people immediately; Richard didn't think he was half bad at either thing but he bowed to the other man's greater skills.

"I doubt there's anyone out there that's quite like Lucy Rothes. I've never met a woman so riddled with contradictions although," he smirked and drew on his cigarette again. "I'm more than happy to do a thorough investigation into the ladies of Downton Abbey and if Lady Grantham and Miss O'Brien are to be our test subjects then I look forward to the experiment."

Andrew was rather looking forward to the experiment too, but he would have to get to know Miss O'Brien better first. Lady Grantham would be easy enough - she was lonely and Richard Carlisle was a charming, attractive man - but Miss O'Brien was a mystery. He couldn't remember another woman, Vera included, that had stumped him quite so utterly, but he was determined to get to know her. Part of him still longed for Lady Flintshire though and he blushed at the thought as he searched through his employer's collection of cufflinks - it had been foolish really, to hope for more and from a _lady_ too, but he had never met a woman quite like her and, as intriguing as Miss O'Brien was, he didn't think she would measure up to her.

"These should work," Andrew muttered lightly, holding up a pair of cufflinks he thought should impress Lady Grantham. "Although I don't think you'll need them. I don't think I've seen Lord Grantham look at her once since we got here."

Resting his cigarette between his lips and feeling like a navy as he did so Richard offered his sleeves to his valet to attach the cufflinks. He had to admit he admired the man's taste, they were understated and spoke of elegance and he was ever so slightly amused to see that they were the same ones Lang had picked for his assault upon Lady Flintshire's senses. She'd been impressed but after a brief bunk-up with him, in which he now had it on good authority Vera had put his valet through his paces before they'd traded for the night. It was breaking with the usual tradition but Richard couldn't deny that the night had been considerably more enjoyably that way.

"Good for my purposes I suppose but I do pity the poor woman being left here when we move on."

He took the cigarette from his lips and tapped it into the nearest vase, knowing they would be far, far away before anyone noticed. He checked himself in the mirror one more time before spreading his arms and meeting Lang's eye.

"Will I do?"

Andrew did a final check, sweeping his eyes over the man in front of him and nodding his head in satisfaction. His job might be somewhat unconventional but he still preferred to do it properly.

"I'm sure her ladyship will think so."

He gave Carlisle a brief smile as he finished up with the cufflinks, stepping back and straightening his own jacket - he had to look his best too, after all, but he suspected the Countess would care more about physical appearance than her maid did. Lady Grantham had been bred to care about that sort of thing and Richard Carlisle wouldn't disappoint, but he had no bloody clue about Miss O'Brien: maybe Miss Smith would have been easier after all? Still, they'd managed to bed Lady Flintshire and Miss Flynn, so surely this would be simpler?

"I wouldn't worry too much about the Countess," he muttered, moving to tidy up the vanity table. "If there's one thing I know about Miss O'Brien, it's that she takes good care of her mistress. In fact, perhaps her ladyship is the key to getting closer to her maid?"

"Perhaps…" Richard stubbed out the cigarette and gave himself a final check, more reliant upon Lang's opinion than his own eyes when it came to these matters and stroking his jacket to absolute perfection. He was preparing himself for one of the most difficult and impromptu seductions that he had attempted so far and he had to admit that he was rather more relaxed than he had any right to be.

Cora Crawley was a beautiful woman, as were all the women he talked into bed, but she was also rather more aloof than the other women and he would be attempting_ this_ seduction under the eyes of her husband and whilst he was the temporary beau of her eldest daughter. Oh well…he never had shied away from a challenge.

"It's just a shame they're not going to be in the same place tonight for you to test your theory. Of course you could always spend the whole evening discussing Lady Grantham and see how far that gets you with Miss O'Brien?"

He smirked. The chances of a woman being particularly eager to talk about another woman positively were fairly thin but if anyone could make it work then it was his inscrutable valet.

Oddly enough, Andrew really did think that might work. He'd spoken with Sarah O'Brien for less than an hour but there were two things he was utterly sure of: she was good at her job and bloody proud of it, and she was completely devoted to her lady. And not just slightly devoted: Andrew got the feeling that there was nothing the woman wouldn't do for her Countess and he wondered what the maid would do if she found out her lady was about to be thoroughly seduced and then abandoned by her daughter's current beau.

He'd rather not think about that right now - he was already nervous enough about the whole endeavour, but they hadn't failed yet and Miss O'Brien was an attractive woman with needs and desires that had probably been repressed - that was usually the case with the maids - and he was...well, he was a man, and he at least had_ that_ to offer. He cleared his throat, forcing another smile and inclining his head.

"I'll do my best. You'd best go down, you'll be late to dinner and you don't want to get off to a bad start with her ladyship."


	2. Cora and Carlisle

Cora did another sweep of the drawing room. She could never really relax at events like these - she was forever ensuring her guests had enough to drink, that they were happy and engaged in civil conversation, and the moment she sat down there seemed to be something else for her to do. Thankfully for the moment everybody seemed sufficiently distracted and she reached for a glass of her own, smiling gratefully at William before taking a seat and sighing slightly in relief.

Robert really didn't understand how difficult these dinners were sometimes, how much preparation they took and how much effort on her part, but then he didn't seem to understand her at all lately. And now Rosamund was god knows where, and she was stuck in a room with her daughters who all had problems of their own and Cousin Isobel who she would really rather not speak to, her mother-in-law who...well, was her mother-in-law, and her husband who apparently wasn't talking to her anyway.

And that just left Richard Carlisle, who had been terribly attentive at dinner and apparently couldn't take his eyes off her now and she blushed slightly at the scrutiny, smiling as politely as she could manage but feeling distinctly unsettled and somewhat confused by the attention. Perhaps he was simply trying to get to know his future mother-in-law?

Richard hadn't enjoyed the chase this much in a while.

True, other women had been more forthcoming and had flirted back with more intention but Lady Grantham was a lady to the core and getting a rise out of her had been tricky indeed. Lady Rosamund, who was quite the opposite, had been more agreeable and on any other occasion he would have changed his plans once more but he didn't even think she even had a maid here and it would be awfully unfair to Lang for him to have to go without just for the sake of his master's ease! Besides which she'd taken her feathers and her increasingly lowered bodice and vanished somewhere else, which was a terrible shame, but did help him focus on the task at hand.

He sidestepped Mary, leaving her saying something unkind about her sister to Matthew, and sidled easily up to the Countess.

"Lady Grantham, may I thank you for a wonderful dinner? I trust that whoever was responsible downstairs will receive my compliments?" He nodded at the footman, who nodded back to assure him his praise would be passed on, before seating himself carefully next to Cora. "You looked a little lonely my lady."

Richard's approach startled Cora out of her reverie, but oddly enough she didn't mind. The man was pleasant company, intelligent and well-informed and without the sense of superiority - or perhaps it was nobility? - that seemed to colour every word that emerged from Robert's mouth, but then he was an Earl and Richard Carlisle was not.

No, Sir Richard was rather more like her, although she had been born into wealth and the newspaper baron had not, but they were still outsiders in British high society, practically barbarians as far as their 'betters' were concerned, and for the first time in quite some time the conversation at dinner hadn't felt like a battle. There was no danger of being tripped up and embarrassing the Crawley family - although that had got easier as the years had gone by - but there was something that distinctly unnerved her about the man, but for the life in her she couldn't put her finger on what it was, and a good hostess never shunned her company because he made her feel a little _odd._

"No, not lonely." She gave the man a small smile. "Working, in a manner of speaking. A good hostess never takes her eyes off her guests."

Usually by this point he was either being glared at by the lady's husband or else the man in question had vanished off to either indulge in manliness with the other men and left all the ladies to him. The gentlemen had a tendency to overlook his staying – they assumed he simply didn't know the form – and it did make his task all the easier when the main barrier was removed.

Robert Crawley was doing neither of these things. He wasn't paying attention to his wife, nor did he seem to have noticed that his daughter's beau had spent most of the night staring down her cleavage and now his attention was taken up with watching his eldest daughter and heir chatting in the corner; had he actually cared about Lady Mary's heart then he might have been angry, but as it was he was glad that they were all too wrapped up in their pathetic romance to notice Lady Grantham's movements. He smiled at her slyly and affected wide-eyes.

"When I socialise with society such as this I often feel I'm learning something new every moment. I thought the guests would have circled around such a lovely hostess and done nothing but flatter her all night?" He shrugged and sipped at his brandy. "But then, what do I know? Poor commoner that I am."

Cora couldn't help but blush at the compliment: she wasn't stupid, she didn't imagine for a second Richard Carlisle really thought her guests should be milling around her and telling how wonderful she was, but she was flattered nonetheless, despite her better judgement and she moved to fiddle unconsciously with the fabric of her glove, as she always did when she was bashful and she quickly realised and ceased the movement. The last thing she needed was for her daughter's beau to know she was flattered and she cleared her throat slightly in an attempt to conceal her reaction.

"You're hardly a commoner, Sir Richard. You're just..." she smirked slightly, glancing around the room and watching her husband, her mother-in-law, her children, before looking back to Richard with a slight shrug of her shoulders, "not part of the 'club' so to speak. And as hard as you try, as long as you try, you never will be."

She had been trying for thirty years and she still felt like an outsider in some respects. Even Rosamund fitted so perfectly into the society she sometimes tried so hard to rebel against, and Cora envied her that ease. She certainly didn't envy Richard for the task ahead of him and she reached after a moment to briefly squeeze his arm.

"So...don't try so hard."

Richard smirked at the touch; it wasn't much, but it was a start, and it was more than he'd managed to get out of _Lady_ Mary so far. For a moment he wondered idly how Lang was getting on with his lady but his valet was far from his biggest concern: on the other hand if Lang failed and the maid wasn't distracted when he took Cora upstairs them a problem might arise if she tried to intervene.

Then again, Lang had never failed before. Richard had long since come to the conclusion that his valet must possess a quality that his male eyes simply couldn't see but he didn't begrudge the man his abilities, he was far from a novice himself.

"I'll try not to exert myself in future. Unless it's for something worthwhile of course."

"Worthwhile?" Cora raised a questioning eyebrow. "Is the pursuit of my daughter not _worthwhile_ enough for you?"

She didn't think that was quite what Richard meant - he was an intelligent, pragmatic man and he was hardly going to dismiss Mary as 'worthwhile' in front of her own mother - but it was still a rather strange thing to say and she creased her brow slightly as she attempted to decipher the meaning of it. But considering the way he had been looking at her tonight, the way he had been talking to her and flattering her, she had a rather good idea of what might constitute a 'worthwhile' pursuit for him. But he was hardly here to chase her, was he? That would be nothing short of stupid when he had come here with his daughter and she _certainly_ wasn't interested... Was she?

She blushed at the thought and dismissed it entirely: she was lonely and Carlisle was charming and she was just being silly.

Richard's mind turned over quickly, assessing the next possible move and covering his momentary pause with a low, charming laugh that he hoped was as ingratiating as it was intended to be.

He hadn't reckoned on Cora being able to catch her out at all – she was an intelligent woman but she hadn't attacked him thus far with the same vicious sharpness that her daughter possessed and he was not entirely eager to have her do so. The Dowager was sharp as a bayonet and Lady Rosamund, for all her flirting and joie de vivre emulated her mother more than he thought she realised it, the youngest daughter was softer though and he'd assumed it was _her_ countenance that Cora shared. Perhaps he was wrong though? Perhaps Lady Sybil was the only lamb in a nest of attractive vipers? Perhaps if all failed it was worth trying his luck with Lady Edith? But no! Cora was the prize and with the new glint in her eye she made for a very fine prize indeed!

"The pursuit is worthwhile my lady, I am yet to certify if it will be productive," he nodded his glass towards where Mary was still entertaining Matthew in the corner of the room. "I'm not inclined to put myself in the line of fire without being sure there will be a return, I'm afraid it's the businessman in me."

"Ah."

The suspicion vanished quite suddenly and she turned her gaze from Richard to the couple on the other side who were talking a great deal more intimately than they had any right to be with Mary's beau in the very same room and _Matthew's_ beau too for that matter. The mother in her had always wanted the best for Mary but not at the expense of a girl like Lavinia Swire, whose only crime had been falling for a man who already loved another, and Cora knew precisely how that felt. It hadn't been a _woman_ she'd had to compete against all of these years - Robert was much too good for that - but his precious Downton Abbey and, on days like these, _weeks_ like these, when Robert had barely given her the time of day, she didn't think she would ever win.

She sighed, almost without realising and turned back to Richard with a sympathetic smile. "Or perhaps the _realist_ in you? I can't pretend I don't know what you mean, but Mary brought you here, didn't she? Perhaps she does mean to move on?"

Richard could honestly admit that he didn't care one way or the other what Lady Mary thought or felt regarding Matthew Crawley. He had been interested in her as a prospective bedfellow but her conversation was altogether too naïve for his tastes and if she, with faux amusement, referred to him as 'nouveau riche' one more time he wasn't sure she would have lasted the night without him having to call on Lang to move the body through the halls. It may have been a last minute change but he was more than pleased with the results so far.

"I wish I could believe you Lady Grantham," he sighed with practiced ease at his deception and finished his brandy with a swagger. "But I'm beginning to suspect that I might be better off cutting my losses. I don't mean any disrespect – lord knows I seem to give it wherever I go according to some – but if she has her heart set on Matthew then I'm surplus to requirement."

He placed the glass carefully on the tray offered to him and picked up another with a nod, his eyes darting to Cora surreptitiously to gage her response.

"Ten, twenty years down the line I don't want to be lonely still."

Cora quickly ducked her head. Richard's words struck a little too close to the bone and she had already given enough away for one evening without the man realising she was_ lonely_ too: the last thing she wanted was pity from Richard Carlisle and she supposed there were people lonelier than her in this world. She had her dear O'Brien after all and she was_ wonderful_ and Cora felt tremendously lucky to have such a steadfast friend who would do anything for her, but...well, her bed had been rather empty of late and it was that loneliness that was driving her mad.

She had never been an especially passionate woman, at least not like Rosamund or Celia, but she had needs and desires that had gone unfulfilled for so long and she was ashamed to admit Richard Carlisle's attentiveness this evening had been rather more welcome than it should have been.

"I don't blame you, Sir Richard. Loneliness is a terrible thing."

She took a sip of her brandy and, looking down, her eyes caught sight of something else instead and she reached unthinkingly into Richard's pocket to pluck out the cigarette case that was already falling free.

"This is beautiful."

"Just Richard please," he shuffled closer with his glass in hand and leant closer to pop open the cigarette case in her hand to show her to mirrored inside.

He wasn't an _overly_ vain man but it was remarkably useful to have something so practical in his pocket at all times and once again, Lang's advice about always being well-groomed in the ballrooms before roughing up a little later on, was right on the money. He traced a long finger over the inscription that read simply 'For R.C from …' and raised a wry eyebrow.

"An old amour I'm afraid. I hadn't the heart to be rid of the gift but seeing her name every day proved too difficult for me." He affected a look of great sorrow and met her eye with a soft and wistful smile. "Sometimes I forget how much older than Mary I really am, how much more of life I've seen. Perhaps it would be cruel of me to tie her to a man such as me?"

Cora smirked slightly, glancing momentarily up from the little trinket before looking back down and brushing her finger over the same inscription Richard had seconds before.

"Please Richard," she tested the name on her stomach, pleased with the sound and arched an eyebrow, "you're not _that_ much older than my daughter. You and I are the same age, you know, and I'm not an overly vain woman but I do like to at least _pretend_ I'm still a young woman."

She eyed the cigarette case once more before handing it over, somewhat curious about the woman who had affected the great Sir Richard Carlisle enough to rouse sorrow from him but much too dignified to ask - it wasn't polite after all, and she was still his hostess.

"Men only get more dignified with age," she blushed slightly at the implication that she considered him such a man, "but not women, although there are a few notable exceptions - Rosamund for one becomes more attractive each day, it's really terribly unfair."

Richard eyed the redhead as she slipped back into the drawing room to collect a decanter from the side table before vanishing again and he had to admire her stealth even if he was rather concerned for whoever she was planning on sharing the strong drink with. He couldn't exactly argue with Lady Grantham's words, apart from anything else it would be a rather egregious lie, but he could surely twist them.

"You shouldn't sell yourself short my lady. There are _many_ women of my acquaintance, and plenty that are the same age as you and I, who no doubt consider your youth and beauty rather unfair on them."

He smirked and winked, making sure to keep his head turned enough to shield his expression from the rest of the room, particularly the Dowager Countess whose sharp eyes were the only hindrance to his plan so far. He gently took the case from Cora's unresisting hands and slipped it back into his inside pocket, letting his fingers linger over her soft skin for a moment longer than he should have done.

Oh good lord, she was blushing again. She really had tried to remain aloof and impervious to the man's considerable charms but he was relentless and very skilled with words, and with every compliment she felt her resolve weaken and her smile widen and her heart pound as if she was a debutante again, but that wasn't quite right.

When she had been a debutante it had been love that had made her feel lightheaded and giddy: what she was rather reluctantly feeling for Sir Richard Carlisle was anything but love. She could see right through the man's words and his charming smile but it didn't seem to matter: she was melting regardless, probably because it was the first time in _months_ somebody had so much as implied she was beautiful and despite her reservations she smiled, pulling back her fingers with reluctance and returning to the original plan.

_Aloof, Cora, aloof!_

"If that's true, do send them my way. My mother-in-law seems to think we Americans are more susceptible to flattery and perhaps she's right? Every now and then it's rather nice to know someone finds you attractive...don't you agree?"

And now she was flirting. So much for aloofness!

"Oh I'm sure there's rather more than just a single somebody that would find you attractive my lady…"

He smirked further, glad that she finally seemed to have cottoned on and was playing the game properly; flirting at dinner had been difficult and he'd had to sidestep an awful lot of remarks that had entered his mind for the sake of maintaining decorum. Lady Grantham had a horrible, or wonderful depending on your perspective, habit of leaning over the table as she conversed and in the dress she was wearing tonight it did give one a rather glorious view down her cleavage. And the finest thing about it was that she didn't even seem to notice what she was doing, he expected she had always done it judging by the lack of interest his lordship had shown in the spectacle in front of him. He'd had to bite his tongue but there was no need anymore and gleefully he pressed onwards, determined to see if he could make the blush travel down her cheeks and neck and across her chest.

"More people than you might imagine."

Oblivious to Richard's observations, Cora did indeed blush from head to toe, and she dreaded to think how obvious it must be: if she had known Richard Carlisle was going to be such a shameless flirt she might have worn a different dress, but, having no idea that she was going to end up cloistered in a corner and wanting to straddle her daughter's new beau, she had worn the most revealing one in her damned closet! And she had always had impossibly fair skin: that, and the fact the dress was so low cut she would be arrested for indecent exposure if it wasn't for the thin lace draped over her shoulders and stretching over her chest, would sure mean it was impossible to miss the effect Richard's words had had on her, and she covered up her interest as best she could by clearing her throat and turning to William, indicating her need for another drink and practically downing the thing in one. She had never been as wonderfully witty as Rosamund and would need a little alcohol in her system for this rest of this encounter.

"Oh?" she continued with all the nonchalance she could muster, leaning across the little table in front of them to place her empty glass down. "I'm afraid I find that hard to believe. You see, most men prefer women like my _daughter_."

Richard smiled with charmed bemusement at her display; he'd watched more than one woman steel herself with a stiff drink before thinking of an excuse to give to her husband to allow herself to retire and wait for him but Cora Crawley seemed to need the drink to bolster her nerves. Well this would never do! He wanted this woman but it would be a hollow victory if she was too drunk to know what she was doing and besides which… he didn't like to think of her being so self-conscious that she needed such things. Hopefully by the end of the night her confidence would have grown and he would have smothered any lingering self-doubt.

"Well I've always felt that most of my fellow men were fools of the highest order," he _tried_ not to look at Robert Crawley as he said it and very nearly succeeded but the slightest flicker of his eye probably gave him away and he leant closer forwards, until his line of sight was practically straight down her bodice. "And I'm sure I could identify at least one man who would prefer a woman such as you to your daughter."

He smirked and looked around to where Mary and Matthew were still talking quietly in the corner.

"If nothing else my lady, at least I have your undivided attention."

Cora knew that, unlike Rosamund, she wasn't exactly a woman of the world, but she wasn't stupid. She was _sure_ now that Richard wanted her and she shivered at the thought, flushing yet again and forcing herself not to call for another glass of brandy.

Oddly enough she wasn't quite as terrified by the knowledge as she had expected herself to be, nor was she particularly outraged. She probably _should_ be outraged, given the man in question was here with Mary, but Mary was thoroughly distracted by Matthew, wasn't she? She had barely dragged herself away from the man all night and poor Richard had been utterly neglected and, she thought as she glanced briefly in Robert's direction, so had she. The truth of the matter was Sir Richard was a handsome, charming man who, though for the life in her she couldn't understand _why_, found her similarly attractive and...well, nobody would ever know, would they? It would only ever be one night.

With that in mind, Cora leaned marginally closer, not close enough to arouse suspicion but close enough to give Richard a perfect view down her bodice, and this time it was utterly intentional.

"What makes you so sure that you do?" She smiled teasingly. "Matthew _is_ terribly attractive after all."

Richard reached for the glass of brandy that the footman was about to offer to Cora and dismissed him immediately, looking into the glass thoughtfully for a moment before he held it out to the Countess himself. The smirk never left his face and, upon noticing that Cora had gotten herself into a better position – he'd think of a better one still for her later – he roved his eyes shamelessly over her chest and the top of her dress before meeting her eyes again.

"Is he? I'm afraid I've had a better prospect this evening and haven't taken a moment to familiarise myself with what I'm sure are Mr Crawley's many talents."

As she reached for the brandy glass he stroked his fingers over the skin that met his and didn't relinquish the drink in his hands until he was quite satisfied that she had gotten the message. He swiftly looked around the room, seeing his initial prey and the heir still chatting, Robert doing his very best to distract the poor waif that would never be the future Countess, the Dowager and her youngest granddaughter chatting amiably and Lady Edith hovering around the door and, to his great amusement, handing a fresh decanter to another redhead that appeared briefly in the door.

Happy that they were all distracted he leant in to all-but-whisper: "And I'm fairly sure I have your attention."

Cora couldn't help but smirk. The man really was terribly full of himself, and she had never been attracted to the shamelessly self-assured type before. Well, that wasn't strictly true: Rosamund was as gloriously self-assured as they came and she had had some fairly vivid fantasies involving her sister-in-law before that she was certain would make even Richard Carlisle blush, but she had never considered letting Rosamund actually have her before - alright, that was another lie but she didn't think she would have ever gone through with it in the end - and she was all but ready to toss aside the

drink Richard had so kindly procured for her and throw herself into the newspaper magnate's arms! Never mind he was her daughter's beau and never mind her husband was sitting on the other side of the room: instead she was desperately racking her brains to think of some manner of excusing herself that would not rouse suspicion.

She eyed Richard curiously, raising the glass to her lips and taking a slow, tantalising sip. "Do you consider yourself an intelligent man, Sir Richard?"

Not a man to be thrown by a question, however unusual for the situation, Richard acquired a look of contemplation, eyebrow raised and the corner of his lips twitching up in amusement, as he fathomed out how to counter her new parry.

The women of his acquaintance didn't generally speak of intelligence: they assumed he must have some for having made money but never seemed to consider that he would be aware of the classical education their brothers and fathers and husbands were privy to. Lady Mary, in a moment that had put him off considering her as anything other than a conquest, had taken it upon herself to let him know what one of Matthew's references had meant at dinner that evening, earning much mirth from the couple and Lord Grantham. But there were all kinds of intelligence he supposed, and he had a wonderful feeling that the Countess' idea of intelligence was going to tally rather well with his own.

"I'm afraid I do my lady, I know it's terribly arrogant of me and your daughter might think I can't tell my myths apart, but I think I have more intelligence than most men." He sipped his whiskey and smirked. "And I thought I asked you to call me Richard?"

Cora bit back a smile, nursing her brandy close to her chest. She rather liked the sound of _Sir_ Richard but she was willing to indulge this one request: he had been terribly nice to her this evening after all and they really should be on a first name basis if she was actually going to go through with this.

"Then perhaps you should call me _Cora_, Richard?" she countered lightly, arching her brow and tracing her finger over the rim of her glass.

Her title was bound to her husband and Robert was the _last_ person she wanted to think of tonight. She could hear his voice in the distant background and did her best to block it out and concentrate instead on Richard's smooth, debonair tones and handsome face, and on the look in his eyes that made her stomach practically _lurch_ in anticipation.

"I'm afraid I can't tell my myths apart either, but that isn't really what I meant."

She shifted slightly, angling her body just enough to press her knee slightly against his. It was a bold move, and she flushed immediately at her own daring, but even this slightest bit of contact brought her body utterly to life.

"If you're as intelligent as you claim, you should be able to think of a way for us _both_ to escape."

He smirked and immediately set to work doing just that. He had already thought of a way to excuse himself and Lady Mary earlier but that simply wouldn't do for the Countess as _she_ had someone who might come after her. Two persons in fact and he was just going to have to trust that Lang had cleared the path and had the lady's maid well enough distracted, which left him with the relatively easily dealt with problem of Lord Grantham. The man was far from observant and probably wouldn't even notice if he shoved his hand down the front of her bodice in front of the whole room.

"Perhaps you could claim a headache?" He smirked around the room, doubting that there was anyone would who try and argue with the sweet Countess if she claimed the ceiling was on fire and she

simply had to see to it immediately. "And I could begin to stamp my feet, make a great show of being ignored by my supposed companion for the evening and leave them to each other?"

Lady Mary could indulge herself with her dull cousin as much as she liked as far as he was concerned, leaving her lovely mother to his imagination.

"Well who could _blame_ you?" Cora responded, doing her best to affect wide-eyed innocence but her mirth utterly letting her down.

Part of her felt like the worst kind of woman, allowing a man she had just met and who had come here with her eldest daughter utterly sweep her off her feet and upstairs to her bedroom, but good god how long was a woman supposed to go on being utterly ignored by a man who had never been able to get enough of her before? The only touch she felt these days was O'Brien's and that was only when the woman's fingers slipped when she was undressing her! She would be lying if she said she didn't enjoy those little slips though - she was far fonder of her maid than she should be, but indulging Richard Carlisle was risky enough: wanting her maid was even worse!

"Now that you mention it I _do_ have a terrible headache."

She raised her voice slightly, glancing round the room and nearly rolled her eyes at Robert's utter obliviousness. Even Violet looked slightly concerned and she couldn't help but feel more than a little hurt that her husband hadn't even _looked_ in her direction.

She smiled apologetically, pushing herself up and smoothing down her skirt and trying not to meet Richard's eye: the smirk on his face would be her undoing, she just knew it! Instead she met Cousin Isobel's concerned gaze as she stood up and immediately shook off the concern, saying her good nights and managing, somehow, to shake Richard's hand and thank him for coming without giving herself away to the rest of the room and let out a breath of relief as she made it to the safety of the outer room: she wasn't made for subterfuge and she only hoped Sir Richard joined her soon before she decided she wasn't made for adultery either!

The minutes passed in utter silence for Richard but he could feel the increased beating of his heart through his chest and fine clothes and it was making him restless. But he had to stay in his seat for a decent enough interval that he could leave whilst looking suitably perturbed: the danger was that one of the others might engage him in conversation and then he'd be sunk.

Luck, however, was with him as she usually was.

Lord Grantham stayed firmly in the corner with Lavinia – she'd been a worry, they'd had a prior acquaintance and she was high on the list of people who might try and speak to him – Sybil still chatted with her Granny – who blessedly was more likely to speak to the wall than she was him – and Mary, well Mary was yet to leave Matthew's side. He stared at them as he sipped his drink, seeing right through them and instead imagining the process of taking Lady Grantham's gown off. He was something of an expert now and once he had the sleeves off those creamy shoulders the gown would pool at her waist and he could push it roughly- no, leave it on her as his hands wandered under her skirts! If she liked it half as much as Ava had then he'd be in for a very satisfying hallway encounter before they even reached the bedroom!

He finished his brandy and put the glass on the table with more force than was strictly necessary as he got to his feet; eyes never leaving Mary's he said a polite goodnight to everyone else and skulked out of the door, doing his best to affect annoyance.

Once he was alone again he smirked at the flushed woman he found. "Have you started without me?"

Cora blushed furiously at the sound of Richard's voice. It was so silly really but it had been simpler in the drawing room: it had been much easier to flirt in a room filled with her nearest and dearest because they had both been forced to observe some small measure of restraint, but now they were utterly alone and she was completely at the newspaper magnate's mercy. Of course that had been the point of escaping the drawing room and she still wanted the man - her heart was practically somersaulting in her chest and her stomach was even more restless - but whatever wit she possessed had completely abandoned her and she blinked up at Richard in a momentary and stupefied silence before breaking it with a voice that was at least an octave higher than her usual silky tones.

"This_ will_ stay between us, won't it?"

Richard tried to contain his smirk at the question – with limited success it had to be said – and instead tried to affect a look of trustworthiness. Several of his ladies had asked the same thing, not in quite the same terrified tones, but even Lady Flintshire, for all her posturing, had made sure her ailing husband would never learn of his wife's indiscretions before she had consented to take him to her bed. And Richard had no objection to offering them reassurance; it was in his interest that no one knew his real reason for entering some homes of course.

"No rumour of tonight will ever leave my lips Cora," he kept her gaze deeply, holding out his hand to take hers delicately and bowing his head to press his lips against her knuckles tantalisingly. "This will stay between us."

And my valet and your maid, he silently added. But there was no need for her ladyship to know about that just yet was there? Later on the maid might confess and Cora would be equally aghast but at least they would have a common ground at last.

After a long moment of hesitation, Cora nodded nervously. Richard looked trustworthy enough and his own reputation would no doubt be tarnished if the society he was trying so hard to penetrate discovered he had taken his beau's mother to bed on the very night he had arrived at Downton Abbey. Rosamund would no doubt scoff at her hesitation but she had so much more to lose than her sister-in-law and she had to be utterly sure: a night of pleasure after weeks of neglect was all well and good but it was not worth the risk if it was likely to result in an eternity of scandal! It wouldn't just be herself she ruined through a night of lust and carelessness - the entire family would suffer and, as hurt as she was by her husband's increasing difference, she would never bring ruin upon his head. Part of her still loved him, after all.

She blushed at the feel of lips on her knuckles, as well as the increasing heat engulfing her body and managed a sly, inviting smile. "I don't believe I ever gave you that tour I promised on your arrival. At least, not of _upstairs_."

Releasing her fingers deftly Richard took a step closer, lingering close for a moment as though he intended to lean in for a kiss, but they were still too exposed and he may have been a great many things but stupid was not one of them and instead he offered her his arm. He could still hear the chatter in the drawing room and though he had managed it before, seducing a woman whilst listening to her husband wittering on thirty feet away was far from ideal.

"Then perhaps we should rectify that? I do prefer to get a good look at things you see."

He tucked her hand into his arm snugly and began to move them towards the staircase, covering her hand with his and stroking the skin lightly with the tips of his fingers. He could feel the hairs beginning to stand up on her arm and smiled to himself, the moment he got her alone he was determined to see how far he could make the goosebumps travel across her body.

Oh god, they were actually going upstairs. She was _actually_ going through with this and Cora shivered at the feel of Richard's fingers on her skin, imagining precisely the kind of reaction those fingers would provoke gliding over other, more intimate parts of her body.

It had been so long since Robert had even bothered with foreplay that she had nearly forgotten how it felt and it was no surprise that the touch to her hand of all places had her practically moaning already in pleasure. She was going to thoroughly embarrass herself once Richard got his hands on her, but she suspected the thrill, for Richard, lay in the triumph of getting a Countess into his bed and not in how experienced and talented that Countess happened to be. She was determined not to let Richard leave without at least _trying_ to impress him though and, glancing briefly around to ensure they were still completely alone in the hallway, she leaned up and pressed her lips slowly and tantalisingly against his cheek.

"So I've noticed. You seem especially keen on the contents of my bodice."

He laughed quietly, the sound rumbling in his throat and spilling out till only she could hear him as they took the steps quickly, much quicker than he imagined the Countess normally would and he wondered how long it had been since she'd ascended these stairs in haste, thinking of the pleasures that were attainable above. Robert Crawley didn't strike him as a notably passionate man and judging by her reaction tonight he doubted she had strayed from her husband before now…he'd had his suspicions about the nature of her relationship with Lady Rosamund – that sort of thing wasn't unheard of after all – but Cora might have been less inclined to come upstairs with him if she had a safer, more familiar lover to turn to.

"As I said earlier my dear, I'm a man of exquisite taste," at the top of the stairs he unfurled their arms and brought his up behind Cora to guide her forwards, his hand gripping her hip firmly and pressing his palm against her skin. "And I'm not enough of a fool to walk away from something I want."

Cora let out a breath, nearly whimpering at the feel of a warm, solid and thoroughly _manly_ body pressed against hers, but thankfully managed to stifle the sound. They were still in a very public corridor and servants were usually crawling around these halls, but for a moment, with strong arms around her and hands resting on her hips, it didn't seem to matter and Richard's words prompted Cora to lean up and press her lips hard against her companion's, winding her arms around his neck and pressing her body flush against his.

Good god he felt marvellous and Cora would have been happy enough to keep this up all day, if the sound of a door clicking shut hadn't forced her to break free of Richard's lips and she reached instinctively to curl her fingers around the man's collar and drag him roughly in the direction of her bedroom. It was the first door on the right, which was rather fortuitous for her but before they could reach the door she spotted a maid ascending the stairs and pushed them both behind a post instead.

Richard was a little thrown by the sudden movement for a second before he heard the footsteps on the stairs and kept as still and quiet as he had when Cosmo had been on the other side of the door unexpectedly and they'd been obliged to lie still for at least ten minutes before the snoring had alerted them that they were safe.

While they were hiding rather snugly he took the opportunity to pull Cora close again, pleased with the aggression she was showing this early on, and held her tightly by her waist as he dipped to claim her lips again. The first kiss had been so brief and he intended to make the most of this one with a bit more gusto, guiding open her lips eagerly and exploring her mouth. He slid his one hand upwards from her waist, up to rest on the back of her neck, keeping her lips in place, whilst his other hand swept lower, dancing over the swell of her hip and pulling her close there, pressing her against his body tightly.

"I think our friend might be gone."

Alone or not, Cora was rather thrilled by their current position. Her back was pressed rather snugly against the wall and Richard's body was even closer and the thrill of nearly being caught was far more exciting than she had expected it to be: she had never been the kind of woman who had enjoyed taking risks before but this was utterly _exhilarating _and she reached up again to tangle her fingers in Richard's hair, dragging him in for another long kiss.

She tried not to compare the man to Robert - it was already bad enough she was betraying her husband under his own roof - but she couldn't help it: it was impossible not to note Richard's clear superiority and the presence of the passion that Robert had been lacking for years now, and for the first time in so long she felt completely and utterly wanted.

"I rather like it here," her lips curled up in a smirk and she kissed him again, pressing a knee somewhat tentatively between his thighs and stroking her fingers over the flesh at the back of his neck. "Don't you?"

Richard smirked at the touch of her thigh and pulled her closer, pinning her against the wall utterly and making sure they were well and truly alone before he gripped her hip again and bunched the material in his hands, rucking it swiftly higher.

"I'm sure I could be persuaded that it has it's…" the hem reached the tips of his fingers and he grinned as his hand slipped under her skirts, brushing his fingers against her soft skin. "Attractions."

He caught her lips once more, massaging her tongue with his as his fingers teased her thigh and edged agonisingly higher; he let go of the material of her dress but left his hand firmly beneath it, stroking softly and inching closer to the edge of her underwear.

He hadn't exactly pegged Lady Grantham as being the sort of woman who'd let him do this in the middle of the corridor but he was pleasantly surprised by her, as indeed he was all the women that he took to bed. There really was something _wonderful_ about being afforded privileges that no one else saw, not even their husbands in many cases, and he doubted Lord Grantham had taken his wife quite like this before.

Moaning at the feel of Richard's tongue against hers and the sensation of his fingers against the hot, bare skin above her stockings, Cora utterly abandoned her inhibitions and lifted her leg, wrapping the long limb around her partner's hip and pulling him harder against her body.

It was becoming increasingly evident, from the feel of his body pressing against hers, that Sir Richard was rather more excited by their encounter than his calm, suave demeanour would suggest and Cora felt rather more than a little smug that she could provoke such desire from a man as cool and arrogant as Richard Carlisle. Her own experience was limited to her husband and one ill-advised but much enjoyed fumble with her sister-in-law and in comparison Richard was obviously _very_ experienced in seducing unsuspecting women under their husband's roofs - she dreaded to think how many women he had done this with, because she was not naive enough to believe she was the first - but he was just as aroused as her and she was determined to make this an experience Sir Richard would not forget in a hurry.

If she was going to be an adulteress, she at least wanted to be a _memorable_ one.

"I _had_ promised," she kissed him again mid-speech, tightening her leg around him and feeling gloriously sensual, "you the grand tour, but this pillar," another kiss, "and my bedroom are really all you need to see."

"Hmmm, I think you might be right there my lady," he kissed her again, ravishing her mouth with his own and impressed at the amount her own forthrightness had picked up. The leg around his hip was tantalising and sensuous and given half the chance he would have had her then and there but,

regardless of the sexual woman he seemed to have unleashed, she was still a Lady and at least deserved the bed. The Countess required tenderness and careful coaxing, more so than any of the other women he had bedded, and wasn't to be had against a wall like a common tart.

He gripped her thigh and pinned it closer to his side, reaching for her other leg graspingly and lifting her up easily until he could feel the softness of her skin through his suit and the heat of her burning against his stomach. With one arm under her backside and the other still pressing her hand against him he moved as swiftly as he could, towards where he had worked out her room was earlier. He reached the door and pressed her against it for a moment, breathlessly pulling back and pressing his lips to her neck instead.

"Shall we?"

He kicked the door open suddenly and they fell inside…


End file.
